Life Lessons
by Demi4yah
Summary: A foreign mentor appears by portal and Mikey attaches to him almost immediately, but Splinter is not to happy about it.


**Life Lessons**

By Demi4yah

_Author's Note: I'm back! It's been a long while, but I had some event that prevented me from being around so I present to you a new fic that popped into my head a few weeks may check my profile for details on why. And before most you of you start to ask, yes, I am working on the next installment of "Apprentice" :) As for this fic, I notice that there is a lack of bond between Splinter and Mikey than the others. So, I wanted to try and test it by bringing in someone who Mikey would admire._

**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own TMNT unfortunately..._

* * *

_New High Score!_

It had taken the better half of his day, but Michelangelo had finally beat his last high score, which showed off his impressive gaming skills of the addicting Halo series. He sped his thumbs over the colored controller to type in his name for the over achievement list of scores. His name was in all and flashed in brilliant colors of white, yellow and green at the very top of the screen.

"Wahooooo!" he yelled, releasing his sweaty grip on the game controller and shooting up from his spot on the couch.

His small victory dance was cut off at the sound of a throat clearing, "Michelangelo."

The orange banded turtle turned his shell on the television to face his family who now assembled around the back of the sofa. He gave them all a lopsided grin and gestured to the flashing screen. "Dudes, check it out," he said enthusiastically, "I reached a new score! Ten thousand points higher than…the…last…" the sentence died on his lips as he took in each of their faces. His eyes landed on Master Splinter, "What's going on?"

Master Splinter shot a sideways glance at the three older turtles standing beside him. They bowed to him and each took a spot on the couch. Michelangelo tried his best to read into their expressions, but they remained emotionless. It was only Donatello who offered him a small smile and it made him feel slightly better, but when his eyes turned back to his sensei, a wave of gloom swept over him.

Yup, he was in trouble. For what, he didn't know, but by the grave looks he received, it was not something to be proud of. He visibly slouched and stared down at his feet. They suddenly became increasingly interesting.

"My son," the weary voice of his father sliced into his thoughts. He looked up. "I wish to speak with you," the he added, "_Alone." _The three turtles on the couch suddenly deflated at the emphasis on the word. "Follow me, Michelangelo."

What he would give to be one of his brothers right now! He sent them a lingering stare as if begging them to come with him, but they deliberately refused to meet his gaze. Instead, Raphael reached forward, clumsily grabbing the remote and turned on the television to the news.

_Traitors_ he thought as bitterly as he could.

"Michelangelo!" the strict voice was now calling from the meditation room.

Not wanting to dig himself into a deeper hole, Michelangelo finally moved from where he was standing before his brothers. He wandered out the living room, aware of the looks from his brothers that were burning holes in the back of his head and passed the kitchen before he stood at the cream paper door of the meditation room.

He took in a gulp of air and blew it out in one shaky breath. Straightening himself up, he slid open the door and then quickly closed it behind him once he was inside. Master Splinter was kneeling on one of the floor pillows. He looked as still as stone with his eyes closed and breathing even. Michelangelo wondered if he had gone into a meditative trance and if he would have to wait long - waiting was not one of his strong points.

"Kneel, my son."

Michelangelo jumped in surprise. He hadn't expected his father to speak much less move, but the old rat always had a way of striking amazement into his sons. It was one of the reasons why it was so hard to even set up a prank for his father, it seemed he always knew when his youngest was up to something mischievous.

The mutant rat opened his eyes when he heard his son settle onto the other floor pillow directly across from him. He could easily see the fear and worry dancing across the blue eyes of his youngest. For a moment, he wanted to assure him that everything was alright, but he stopped himself - everything was not alright. And he had tried to figure out a right way out of this predicament, but alas they had all failed and Splinter was left to confront his son.

"Do you know why you're here, Michelangelo?" he asked softly.

Michelangelo opened his mouth, but snapped it shut. He stared at his hands folded on his lap, then opened his mouth again before sighing and closing it. Instead, he settled in the swift movement of shaking his head.

"That is not answer," he scolded gently.

Michelangelo swallowed, "No, Sensei." he said in monotone, "I don't know why I'm here. I don't even know what I've done."

"It isn't something you've done, Michelangelo," Master Splinter said calmly, "But something you haven't been doing."

At this, Michelangelo lifted his gaze from his hands to his Master and quirked in eye ridge in question. "I don't understand."

"Lately, I have seen a slack in your training," Splinter started in a firm voice, "I do not know the cause of this, but I have seen that is has been effecting your focus in the daily training lessons. The other evening you were performing the high dragon kick instead of the flying dragon kick."

Michelangelo gave a sheepish grin, "It was an honest mistake, Sensei! I mean, high dragon kick, flying dragon kick. They are like only one word off!"

"This is not meant to be amusing, Michelangelo. I called you in here because you have wandered off your path, my son." Splinter explained, "All you do is play your video games and read your comic books, but I do not see the effort you put into those things being applied to your training."

Michelangelo opened his mouth to speak, but stopped abruptly when Splinter raised his hand.

He continued, "Leonardo has tried to engage you in many activities he thought up particularly for you and yet you still remain unfocused. There is no acknowledgement of the lessons nor the lectures for the day." his whiskers twitch, "So, I wonder now, my son what is it that has been causing this inattentiveness?"

Taking this as his queue, Michelangelo found he had no answer to the question. Instead, he gave the universal sign that all kids used to try and weasel out of a direct questioning. He simply bowed his head shrugged.

"As I said before," the old rodent mimicked Michelangelo, "is not an answer," .

Michelangelo sighed. Of course, Master Splinter wouldn't accept that as answer. He prefers the full fledged explanation that Leonardo would give him, but unfortunately Michelangelo was not his oldest brother right now. But, at this moment he would give anything to switch places with the katana wielding turtle. So, this would prove to be really difficult for him especially under his father scrutinizing gaze.

He tried another alternative. "I dunno," and added another shrug.

In one swift moment, Master Splinter reached for his walking staff and whacked his son over the head.

A yelp came from the young turtle as he rubbed his head, "Owww…" he whined.

"Do not play games with me, Michelangelo," Splinter snapped, "You know very well that I do not appreciate your foolishness in such a serious conversation. Now, I ask you once again - why have you become so inattentive during my lessons?"

Master Splinter was so not playing around. He could tell by the tense posture in his father's shoulders and the twitch of the ears. The calm demeanor was leaving quickly and if Michelangelo did not start giving some reasonable answers, he would be facing a very irritated rodent. Personally, the orange banded turtle did not want to be given extra training sessions by a steamed off Sensei.

Out of habit, he once again shrugged his shoulders, "I really don't know," For a moment, he glanced up at his father as if expecting another whack on the head, but was relieved to see the calmness return in the mutant rat's features. So, Michelangelo continued on with his answer, "I guess I'm not that into the intense training like the others are." he paused, searching for a better word, "It's different with me."

"How are you different?"

Michelangelo didn't expect his father to understand. He barely expected his brothers to understand who he knew were huddled quietly outside the door. It's not like he ever kept anything from them, but this was the one thing he did manage to keep to himself. He didn't want to hurt his family, he knew they would take it personally.

"Michelangelo."

He looked up to look his father in the eyes, "I don't…Sensei, I don't feel like-"

"For me to help you, I _need_ to know, my son." Splinter said gently, "You have me puzzled thus far. I am done trying to figure out where I have gone wrong with you."

Michelangelo shook his head hastily, "You haven't done anything wrong, Master Splinter. It's me."

"Explain, my son."

Encouraged by his father's understanding words he carried on, "Sometimes, I feel like a stranger here. No one understands me, Sensei. I love Leo, Don and Raph, but the stuff I do in my free time is like this much different than what they do!" he emphasized this by spreading his arms wide apart then dropped them heavily in his lap, "Raph busts heads topside at night, Leo practices his katas non stop and Donnie fixes and invents things that benefit for all of us. I don't exactly see where I fit in." by this time, Michelangelo was no longer kneeling, but on his feet pacing in front of his father, "I read comics, I play videos, watch movies, play with Klunk… I don't do anything that helps any of us!"

"Oh, Michelangelo," Splinter reached out and took hold of the turtle's wrist. He pulled himself up on his own feet and picked up his staff, "You hold much-"

Michelangelo swatted him away, "I know what you're going to say! You've already told me this, but it doesn't make it go away!" he crossed his arms, "Sure, I tell jokes and pull pranks that lighten up the place, but I'm getting tired of everyone baggin' on me every time I do that!" it seemed Michelangelo couldn't keep his mouth shut, it just kept going, "It's either, _Mikey knock it off _or _Michelangelo pay attention _or _Mikey get the shell away from me _or _Michelangelo stop it with this foolishness_! Trust me, I've heard every line out there to be said."

"I am sorry that you feel this way, my son," Splinter said, rubbing his temples, "But, I only want the best for you. I love you all fiercely and that is why I train you in the arts of Ninjitsu - to protect you. I cannot bare to lose any of you."

Michelangelo snorted, "Well, you haven't been such a good job, Sensei," he snapped angrily, "Shredder's attacked us like what two times? And Bishop is a crazy whack job tryin to get one of us on a lab table and Hun just wants to do us in!" a forceful shout of laughter escaped the normally happy turtle, "Oh yeah, Ninjitsu has totally saved our shells."

"You hold your tongue," Splinter hissed, raising his staff threateningly, "I believe ninjitsu has saved you more than enough times or do you not remember your boasting over your win in the Battle Nexus?"

"I boasted because that championship seemed to be the only thing that kept your attention!" Michelangelo growled as he furiously wiped at his eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

Michelangelo turned away from him. He pulled off his orange mask that was dampening from the tears that he was trying to hold back.

A furry hand was placed on his shoulder asking silently to express his feelings. "When I won that Battle Nexus trophy, it made me feel good because you were proud of me for something that I did."

Splinter shook his head, "This is not true. I am proud of you no matter what you do."

"Well, it sure doesn't feel like it." he mumbled more loudly than he meant.

This truly was not what Splinter had expected from his youngest son.

Michelangelo sighed and shrugged off his hand, "Sensei, I'm sorry, but the last thing I need is therapy on how to deal with my emotions. It might work on Leo, but I don't think it's gonna do wonders with me."

"If that is how you feel,"

Michelangelo frowned, but nodded as he watched his father return to kneeling on the pillow. He opened his mouth as if to apologize, but simply left it alone and left him to his meditation.

The elderly rat watched his youngest leave.

* * *

_Eh... I'm working on Splinter so bear with me ._

_I hope I'm not losing my touch_

_Until next time - That's Demi for yah!_


End file.
